“Hey, you were in my coffee shop,” Adam says, in a more accusatory voice than he should have. “Are you stalking me now?”
The man’s shoulders hunch a little as everyone turns their gaze toward the two of them. “Um, no?”
“And now you’re here.”
“Looks like,” the man tilts his head, seeming nonplussed. Adam can’t help but notice again how sharp his jawline is.
Focus, Weir, he tells himself in a voice that sounds unfortunately like Cameron’s chime.
“It was good coffee,” the man says. “Even if you did make a terrible tall joke.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
“If you say so,” Tree Man holds out a hand, which Adam grasps unthinkingly. His hands, like the rest of him, seem to have grown twice the size of another human’s and dwarf Adam’s easily. Despite probably being able to break Adam’s hand in one second, the man’s grip is surprisingly light. “Shane.”
And now he has a name that is not Tree Man. “Adam.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tree Man, no, Shane, gives a tentative smile, before dropping his hand.
“So, I’m guessing you have a part here, right?”
Shane raises his hand to the back of his neck, head tilting down. Though, Adam can’t tell if it’s from nerves, or because the height difference is that bad. “Oh, yeah, I’m going to be playing Lysander.”
Oh. Adam freezes, now retaking a look at Shane. So this is going to be his rival, er, actor he’s helping out. Yep. “Cool, cool,” Adam’s nodding his head like crazy and forces himself to stop. “So how long have you been acting?”
Shane looks even more abashed now, eyes darting to the ground. “Well, I’ve been an extra a couple of times.”
Adam narrows his eyes. “Just an extra?”
An apologetic nod.
He’s got to be kidding. “Have you ever done Shakespeare?”
Shane pauses, then shakes his head. Adam digs his nails into his hands. “So… this is your first time?”
Another nod. “Acting’s never really been my thing, but Violet insisted I do this,” he adds shuffling his feet. “But I figure it can’t be that hard, right? Especially after being friends with Violet this long.”
“Can’t be that hard?” Adam’s disbelief has grown its own set of disbeliefs. Here he is, having worked his ass off for years and Shane just rolls up and says acting can’t be that hard? He should’ve known there was something wrong with the man. No one could be that tall and that striking and not be completely flawed. “You just decided to do Shakespeare?”
“Well, yeah,” says Shane, puzzled.
“You must be really good. Or, you’re about to crash and burn. Hard.”
For the first time in their conversation, the confusion on Shane’s face morphs. The corner of his mouth turns down and his jaw tightens. “Thanks for your kind support.”
“Look, I’m just saying someone else might have actually deserved the role more. You know, someone who’s been working really hard at it.”
A new voice interjects. “Someone like you?” they clap their hand on Adam’s shoulder, and he has to twist to scowl at the new person that’s joined them, only for his entire face to drain. Kyle Travers looks down at Adam smugly, blue eyes glinting.
Oh, great. Just who he wanted involved in the situation.
“Kyle,” Adam steps away, letting Kyle’s hand fall off his shoulder.
Kyle flat out ignores him, turning to Shane. “Don’t listen to this guy. He has a habit of running people out of productions.”
“That was one time! And it had nothing to do with me, he just had zero clue what he was doing,” James Foster was a terrible Benedick for Much Ado About Nothing and everyone had agreed afterwards.
Admittedly, he probably didn’t go about it the right way.
“Didn’t you make him burst into tears?” Kyle finally turns to address him.
Of course, Kyle would remember that. “I apologized after.”
“Is that something you do often?” Shane doesn’t look any more impressed.
Adam shoots Kyle a glare because this is all his fault. Granted, Adam wasn’t being particularly nice earlier, but he decides to ignore that. “I call it honesty.”
“The rest of us call it arrogance,” Kyle says.
Shane looks skeptical of both of them, and Adam thinks he could not have started the first day on a worse foot. “I see. Uh, excuse me, I just need to talk with Violet really quickly.”
With that, he makes his great escape, abandoning Adam with Kyle. The two observe each other warily, Kyle’s lip slightly curled.
Kyle’s face always pisses him off, but today, especially so. “I see you’re still not over it,” Adam crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s been like, what, five years?”
“I like to hold grudges,” Kyle says. “You stole a role from me, Weir. You’d be fucking furious if I did that.”
Adam would never admit Kyle’s right, so he resolutely ignores his last sentence. “I just convinced the director you were better suited for something else,” the words fall out of Adam’s mouth easily, a line the two have traded back and forth over the years.
Five years ago, Adam and Kyle, both two years fresh out of NYU had worked a production of Fools. And Adam, well, he might have made a case to the director to cast him instead of Kyle. A case that involved a bit of bribery, some wine, some wooing, and a lot of unrepentant Adaming, in other words talking until the director didn’t want to hear him anymore.
It was not the finest moment of his acting career. He might even admit he’d never do it again and had only done so then as a too eager newbie to the scene. But Adam Weir doesn’t back down, so he just keeps staring at Kyle, until Kyle sneers.
“Enjoy the anonymity in this production, Weir,” Kyle stalks off, re-joining a red head Adam recognizes as Cynthia, Kyle’s on-again, off-again girlfriend. She brushes back her red braid and the two quickly fall into a quiet, heated discussion.
It’s a shame, Adam always liked Cynthia. She’s always been much more rational and level-headed than Kyle, and he never quite understood why the two were together.
Then again, like he told Cameron earlier, Adam doesn’t do romance.
Adam scans the remaining cast and finds Shane alone now, standing off to the side. When Shane spots him, he has the same wary face Adam’s seen before, but Adam chooses to ignore it. Rolling his shoulders back, he marches up to him. Shane, for his part, doesn’t run away, merely blinking at the shorter actor in confusion as Adam plants himself right in front of the man. Adam cuts straight to the chase. “Look, forget about Kyle earlier.”
Shane quirks his mouth. “About stealing a role?”
“He exaggerates,” Adam says, repeating the same words he told Violet earlier. Like Violet, Shane appears unmoved.
“I’m not sure what’s going on between you two, but I don’t want to get involved. I’m not really one for work drama.”
Adam resists a sneer. This guy certainly thinks he’s all high-and-mighty and not a problem starter like Adam clearly is. The thought is definitely a little unfair, but Adam’s bitter as it is to have to work with Kyle again. “Okay, you don’t like drama and you’ve never done Shakespeare. How’d you end up here?”
Shane eyes Adam, still a little wary. He must realize Adam’s not going to go away unless he gets an answer. “Seemed like something nice to do to fill the time.”
It’s like his every answer is specifically crafted to make Adam’s blood pressure rise.
Luckily, Violet’s loud, authoritative call rings out, preventing the conversation from moving forward. “Alright, everyone’s here now?” Violet gestures all of them to move closer, handing a script to each of them as they pass her. “Let’s all gather around to do introductions and then we’ll get straight into the first reading. We have four weeks before we have to put this on, so we can’t waste any time right now.”
“Demanding,” Shane says, more to himself than to Adam, seeming
fond.
Adam arches an eyebrow, but resists commenting. A feat, or so his mother would say. He follows Shane toward the circle of people, allowing him to go first, and observes his shoulder blades move beneath his shirt. The guy may seem a bit dismissive but he’s certainly nice to look at. Even Adam, the worst at romance and dating, can see that.
The two are farthest away, so naturally, they end up sitting right next to each other in the circle. Adam has unfortunately earned a seat across from Kyle, who shoots him a glower, thick eyebrows furrowing together. Or maybe that’s just Kyle’s normal face. Adam can’t really tell, but he bares his teeth in a wide grin, anyway, just to see what Kyle might do. Next to Kyle, Cynthia smacks him lightly on the arm and whispers into his ear. Whatever she says seems to do the trick and the glower turns into a slightly abashed look.
Charlie leans in. “Man, what did you do to piss him off?”
“Probably just my exceedingly good skills,” Adam whispers back.
Charlie snorts but doesn’t comment further.
Violet stands and the last of the chatter dies down. “Thank you everyone for coming,” brushing her hair back, she cradles her clipboard in the crook of her elbow, eyes sweeping dispassionately over the small cast. A deep breath. “We’ve got a short time, but I know everyone here is up for it,” her eyes land on Adam and he nods back. The curve of her lips lift slightly at him—maybe he’d actually won her approval?—before moving on, to look at Shane. Shane seems oddly solemn and simply returns Violet’s gaze. When her gaze breaks, she directs everyone to introduce themselves.
Not for the first time in his life does Adam think that starting a production is oddly like joining a cult.
A man with slicked back, jet black hair introduces himself as Vlad, playing Nick Bottom, while a woman with an intense dark stare and short, pixie-blue hair introduces herself as Puck. Chad, with a pointed nose and a bit of a pot-belly, would be their Egeus, and Charles their Theseus. There’s Kyle, of course, with his eyebrows that could be moving, as their resident Oberon—because of course he is—and Cynthia, seated next to him, announces she’s playing Titania. A man with dark brown skin and a lazy smile introduces himself as Stefan, cast as Demetrius. They go around the circle like this, until they land on Adam, who quickly introduces himself as the person playing Quince. Kyle cocks a grin at him, obviously pleased he’s got one up on him.
Jerk.
Luckily, they move on quickly to Shane. He seems to slide down a little in his chair first as everyone’s head turns toward him. Of course, he’s so large there’s no way anyone could miss him. Chin tilted slightly down to his chest, the man speaks down toward his hands, his voice a quiet rumble. “I’m Shane. I’ll be playing Lysander. Um,” he hesitates, looking oddly shy now, then continues. “I’ve never done Shakespeare formally before, so please bear with me!”
The rest of the cast nods reassuringly, and honestly, Adam can’t believe them. But he manages to rein his temper back in, reminding himself that all parts are good parts, small or otherwise. Plus, even if Adam wanted to poison Shane like Violet suggested, the man would probably burn through it immediately. Unless he doubled it…
Okay, no committing murder to land a local role, Adam scolds himself. That was a last resort for Broadway at best.
But not in a local Brooklyn production, when it sure as hell would be traced back to him.
Adam nearly slaps himself. He sounds ridiculous, even in his own head. He just needs to wait for an opportunity, and then, he’d be able to strike.
Chapter Two
There have always been two rules in Shane’s life, don’t volunteer for anything and don’t fall in love with anyone shorter than yourself. The first tends to be a little more difficult, considering he has trouble turning anyone down, which was why he’d imposed the rule. The second, on the other hand, usually works out, considering he only dated men.
Now, he’s broken rule number one again and currently wants to throw up on his bar. But, that would probably get him fired, and if Shane has to add a third rule it would probably be, don’t get fired. He doesn’t have enough savings to get fired. Especially now he’s taken the morning and afternoon shifts for the next few weeks, while Sam covers the evening shifts, so Shane can make rehearsal. Without the tips from the evening, Shane is sure his wallet will be tight.
So he forces any bile down his throat, continues to clean the glasses until they are absolutely spotless, and tries his best to forget what he signed up for.
It sort of works. There’s a lingering anxiety in the back of his brain, but he shoves it down and simply pretends it doesn’t exist. Shane prefers this time of night, when the bar is beginning to fill and the quiet buzz slowly grows louder and louder, until it’s so loud he can barely hear his own thoughts. Instead, he tries to sink into the familiarity of his bar. At just after 9:00 p.m. on a Friday, the crowd is slowly changing. The office workers, with their loose ties, oxfords and pencil skirts, are finally starting to trickle out, being replaced by the more casual, fresh-faced, young adult crowd. All that’s left for Shane to do is fill drinks and exchange smiles with customers. He falls into an easy rhythm, glad to find this still makes sense.
Sam rolls out of the back room at that moment, bag swung over his shoulder, having finally finished his afternoon shift. As the only other bartender, outside of Ben, the owner, they’re used to working long shifts. Still, Sam’s shoulders slump more today and a bit more guilt settles into Shane’s stomach. “You sure you’re okay taking over the evening shifts for the next month?”
Sam waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Extra money and all that. If I really hate it, I’ll just quit.”
“I’ll kill you if you leave me alone,” after eight years, Shane can’t even imagine working without Sam.
“Oh, I’m kidding. Besides, you’ve been here longer, you get the first chance to quit,” Sam pushes an empty glass toward Shane.
“Eventually, yeah, I will,” Shane picks up the glass, sticking it in the sink without a word. He would. At some point, he swears to himself, he’s going to do something besides the same job he’s had since college.
“Mmm, just give me a heads up first. Anyway,” Sam says, pounding a fist against the bar lightly, pushing off the counter. “I’m out. The girlfriend wants to have ‘a talk,’” Sam rolls his eyes. “Whatever that means.”
Sam and his girlfriend, Ella, have been together for as long as Shane’s known them. As far as he understands, “a talk” means arguing, and then make up sex. Shane nods. “Alright, see ya later.”
Sam flicks a victory sign and disappears into the evening.
Just when Shane thinks he might avoid spontaneously combusting from anxiety, his worst nightmare wanders into the bar.
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Violet plops herself on the stool directly in front of him, elbowing another man to get the seat. She’s still dressed in her sweater from earlier and her mascara has completely smudged around her eyes, giving her an even more pronounced raccoon look than before. Her brown hair has become a veritable tornado and her hands are covered in penned notes that have also smudged during the day. Despite this, she manages to exude a confident aura that holds the attention of everyone she meets.
Shane slides a drink to a customer, not quite looking into Violet’s eyes. “Don’t you have blocking to work on?” he says, lightly.
“Can’t really do much more until tomorrow,” Violet props her elbows on the counter, cradling her head in her hands. “This place smells like piss.”
“Supposedly, that’s the charm of it.”
Violet huffs, wrinkling her nose and Shane grins. She’s been complaining about the smell since he first started working at the bar, but still drops by once a week to visit. Violet’s always been picky like that but she’s a good friend.
Which only makes what he wants to say worse. With Violet in front of him, his anxiety flares up, full force, eating at his stomach. Shane nearly drops a glass, but manages t
o catch it before it shatters.
“Nice,” Violet says, dryly. “Almost like you haven’t worked here eight years.”
“Thanks,” Shane sets the glass and his rag down before he drops anything else. He hesitates, and then decides to just go for it. “Look Violet, I think this might have been a mistake…”
“A mistake?” Violet looks scandalized, but Shane presses on, wanting to finish before he loses it.
“A mistake. Everyone in there, well, they’re more experienced than I am.”
“Shane…”
“And I know we’re friends, but don’t let that stop you…”
“Shane,” she repeats, raising a hand. Shane clamps his mouth shut when Violet shoots him a look. “I’m not letting you quit when we haven’t even had a full rehearsal yet.”
Shane deflates. He should’ve guessed, it could never be quite that easy. “I don’t know if I can do this, Violet. Everyone in there, you have to admit it, they’re probably better.”
Violet doesn’t say anything for a moment and Shane thinks she’s going to concede. But then her jaw tightens and she straightens in her seat. “Listen, Shane. You just,” Violet waves her hands as she searches for the right words. “You have something. I can’t explain it, but I can see it.”
Shane frowns, and wishes he could see through Violet’s eyes instead, because he has no idea what she’s talking about. “Are you sure,” he says, gently. “That you might not be mistaken? Especially since it’s your first time directing.”
Violet’s face darkens and her mouth curves into a frown. “I can’t have made a mistake, Shane. Look,” she leans forward and grabs his hand over the bar. “I know you. You run at the first sign of conflict, or the first time something looks hard. But when you did those first line readings for me, I could just see that you had something. An understanding of the words in front of you. And sure it might not come as easy in front of other people, but I really think you can do this,” Violet squeezes his hand harder, a little too tightly if you asked him. “Come on, remember how you felt when it was just us?”
Standing Ovation: A M/M Contemporary Romance Page 2